


there's an art to life's distractions

by HawthorneWhisperer



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Friends With Benefits, Roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-22 10:16:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14306556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HawthorneWhisperer/pseuds/HawthorneWhisperer
Summary: Bellamy needs a place to live for a few months and Clarke has a spare bedroom.What could go wrong?





	1. Chapter 1

Clarke knew something was wrong the moment Octavia got the text.  She paused with her fork halfway to her mouth and frowned at her phone.

“Everything okay with Jesse?” Clarke asked.

“Yeah, it’s not about him,” Octavia said vaguely, still reading.

“Work stuff?” Raven asked.

“No, it’s— it’s Bellamy.  You know his new place? There was a fire there today,” she said without looking up, thumbs flying across her phone.  “I guess he’s staying with us for awhile.”

Clarke had heard the sirens when she ran errands earlier in the day, but hadn’t connected them to the brand-new townhome Bellamy rented last month.  Her heart sank, remembering how excited he was to finally have a full-time job that could pay the rent on a place that didn’t involve roommates or dubiously constructed additions.  And how happy they all were that he was finally, _finally_ moving back after six years of grad school.

Raven scrunched up her face in sympathy.  “At least he hadn’t moved in yet? But that really sucks.”

Octavia blew her hair out of her eyes and put her phone down, facing up this time in case Bellamy responded.  “Yeah. He has to be out of his place in Pennsylvania by the end of this week, and the movers are already booked, so...I guess we can move Jesse’s crib into our bedroom, and Bellamy can sleep in the nursery.  He’ll have to put the rest of his shit into storage while he wrestles with the management company and insurance.” She stopped to read another text and swore under her breath. “And yep, management is saying since his lease started this week, he can’t break it and get his money back even though he hadn’t moved in yet.  Shit, this’ll really set him back.”

Frustration creased Octavia’s face.  Clarke thought about the two-bedroom bungalow she and Lincoln had rehabbed three years ago, before Jesse was born.  Between Octavia’s police salary and Lincoln’s social work job they hadn’t been able to afford anything bigger, and it was a tight squeeze now that Jesse was mobile.  She thought about Raven’s spartan studio, and Monty and Miller’s more-comfortable-but-still-less-than-900-square-feet one bedroom near campus. And then she thought about her own three bedroom, two and a half bath house a fifteen minute drive from the university, and made a decision.

“He can just move in with me instead,” she announced, and whipped out her phone.  She saw Octavia and Raven exchange a look and stopping typing. “What? I have two extra bedrooms, so unless he wants to move in with Jasper or Murphy and smell like pot for all of eternity, I’m the best choice.”

“He’ll probably want to pay rent,” Octavia said carefully.

“I figured,” Clarke replied.  “We’ll work something out so I don’t feel like I’m bleeding him dry and he doesn’t feel like I’m giving him charity.  But come on— it’s the easiest solution and you know it.”

There was that look again, the one Clarke couldn’t quite parse.  “It does make sense,” Raven conceded, and Octavia’s jaw worked briefly until she nodded in agreement.  

 

_ Clarke Griffin _

_ Out to dinner with O and just heard about the fire.  _

_ You’re staying with me until you’ve got a place. _

 

_ Bellamy Blake _

_ Since when do you give me orders? _

_ Clarke Griffin _

_ Since I’m the only one of our friends with a spare bedroom  _

_ and bathroom and without a bong as a centerpiece of my living room. _

 

_ Bellamy Blake _

_ God I wish you weren’t right about that. _

_ I’m paying rent, though. _

_ Clarke Griffin _

_ We can fight about that later. _

 

Clarke hit send and turned back to her food.  “It’s a plan,” she told the others, a little perturbed by the fact that they seemed skittish about it, for no reason she could discern.  After all, she and Bellamy hadn’t actually  _ fought _ in years.  Bickered, sure, but no more than he bickered with Raven during his yearly visits home.

Clarke had met Octavia first, when Octavia brought in a drunk driver who’d hit a tree fleeing police to Clarke’s ER during her third ever shift of her residency.  She approved of the way Clarke managed to distract the man from his repeated escape attempts and offered to buy her a drink after her shift as a thank you. Clarke had sort of wondered if it was going to be a date, but instead she found a packed table at Grounders with half a dozen strangers who immediately adopted her; save one.  Octavia’s brother had been standoffish with her at first, and Clarke’s pride kicked in. But once it became clear they were both stuck with each other, that hostility had shifted into friendship at a frankly alarming pace.

Moving to Arkadia without knowing anyone had been terrifying, but through Octavia, Clarke discovered an ever-expanding circle of friends.  She met Miller, gruff but loyal, and Monty, and one night, just over a year after she moved, she met Anya. And through Anya she met Lexa, and her whole world changed.

She still saw her friends after that, of course, but Lexa was intoxicating— and Lexa didn’t quite fit with them.  Clarke straddled two worlds as best she could, her loyalty to those first few people who opened their hearts to her unshakable, but she couldn’t help but notice the distance.

When Bellamy got into his dream grad program, she’d been genuinely thrilled for him, even if she privately mourned the thought of him being so far away.  They had only known each other a year and a half, Lexa pointed out, but while Clarke saw the logic in that, she knew she would miss him. And miss him she did, even though he came back every year at Christmas and for a few weeks during the summer.  They emailed and texted— and Octavia even bullied him into signing up for snapchat— but a drifting was inevitable, she supposed.

But that drifting never quite lead to a complete break.  She and Bellamy would have fallow periods, like when he was in Italy for research and their time zones were all messed up, or when she was studying for her boards and she stopped speaking to anyone who wasn’t a patient or coworker for two solid months, but they always managed to pick up where they left off.  Through it all— Lexa leaving, his qualitative exams, her shift from resident to board-certified emergency physician— they kept in touch.

And now he was  coming home.  When Echo got the offer in France last winter Clarke assumed he’d go with her and resigned herself to a permanent long-distance friendship with Bellamy.  But he turned Echo down and applied at Arkadia U instead, and last month Clarke had insisted on accompanying him to every single place he looked at, mostly out of pure joy that he was going to once again be within driving distance.

And now he’d be living just down the hall from her.  

* * *

 

Emptying out her “gym” was pretty easy, considering it consisted of a yoga mat, a few sets of weights, and a bunch of shit that didn’t really have anywhere else to exist in her house.  Clarke carried the latter to the basement and the former to her office— which would now be their office, which really meant Bellamy’s office, since she didn’t generally bring work home with her— and she was ready for Bellamy to move in.

That process was a little less easy, but by no means difficult.  She was used to bickering with him, and their friends may have rolled their eyes every time they started another argument about how many books he owned but she saw the way his eyes danced and knew he enjoyed it every bit as much as she did.  He moved his bed into her old gym, several bookcases and an impossible amount of books into the office, and that night they ate pizza standing at the island in the kitchen, toasting their beers to his new job.

If she had one concern when Bellamy moved in, it was that she would resent the loss of her private time.  Clarke had gotten used to having absolute silence and freedom in her house, and her schedule at the hospital meant she frequently had days at a time where she stayed home, glorying in her solitude.  Sometimes the only other person she saw was Madi, on their weekly Big and Little Sister dates.

But teaching three new courses plus committee duties and advising meant Bellamy was swamped, frequently staying on campus until eight or nine at night and then retreating to the office with a pile of grading.  In fact, her new worry was soon that she didn’t see Bellamy  _ enough _ _,_ because between her long shifts and his workload, sometimes her only sign that she had a roommate was the extra dishes in the dishwasher.

It got so bad that six weeks into his semester she barged into the office with two beers and perched on the edge of his desk.  “You’re taking a break,” she declared.

Bellamy pulled his glasses off and rubbed at his eyes.  “I can’t,” he sighed. “I promised my intro class I’d have their papers back by Wednesday, and I still have to write the lecture for Mycenaean Greece on Monday.  And then there’s the papers for that class, which I still haven’t finished, and—”

“No, you’re taking a break,” she repeated, and thrust a beer into his hand. “Will anyone die if they don’t get their paper back on Wednesday?”

“No, but—”

“No buts.  Will they die? Or will they grumble about it a little and then be fine when they get it on Friday instead?  Because you know, I have actual experience with your job meaning life and death situations, so if someone might die I can advise you on how to handle that stress.”

Bellamy narrowed his eyes at her.  “It’s really not fair for you bring that into it,” he grumbled.  “I promised them Wednesday.”

“Honestly, half will forget and the other half should learn to live with mild disappointment,” Clarke countered, and when he took a sip of beer she knew she’d won.  “Come on, we’ve got a whole new season of Great British Bake Off on netflix, and I’ll be damned if I’m watching that by myself. You can go back to being a martyr tomorrow.”  She held out her hand and Bellamy sat back in his desk chair, eyeing her carefully.

“Fine,” he sighed, and let her pull him up.  Clarke grinned in triumph and he followed her down the stairs to settle on the couch.  Clarke stretched out on the long sectional, beer balanced on her stomach, and Bellamy laid down perpendicular to her.  The gentle intro music to GBBO began, and two hours later Bellamy had gotten them both more beer and Clarke was pleasantly buzzed and sleepy.

“If Nadiya doesn’t take this whole thing I’m going to write a strongly worded letter to the BBC,” Bellamy announced.

“How do you exist in the world and not know how this season ends?” Clarke asked.

“Because I was working on a dissertation until July and then had three new classes to create?”

“Fair enough.  But I’m instituting a new rule for as long as you live here.  Once a week, you take a minimum of two hours for roommate chill time and netflix.  Blanket?” 

Bellamy reached behind him and threw her the blanket.  “Is that different from netflix and chill?” 

“For the love of god please tell me you know what that really means,” she laughed, and he wiggled his eyebrows in response. “But yes, just to be clear, roommate chill time does not involve sex.”

“Noted,” he said, hiding his smile behind his beer.

Clarke settled back into the cushions, blanket tucked around her legs, but by the time the technical challenge rolled around her eyes were getting heavy.  She let her eyelids droop, blinked them open, and then let them droop again. Eventually, she gave up.

A hand on her shoulder woke her, the TV dark.  She was curled on her side, her cheek resting on something that was clearly not the couch.  She looked up and realized Bellamy was looking down at her from an awkward angle-- she was lying with her cheek pressed to his thigh, completely opposite from the direction she thought she was leaning when she fell asleep.  “I didn’t know what the roommate protocol was for you sleeping on my legs,” he said with a grin. “Do I just leave you here overnight, or am I supposed to carry you to bed?”

Clarke laughed and stretched as she sat up.  “Sorry, you could have woken me the second I collapsed on you.  But yes, you did the right thing, unless you  _ want _ to carry me upstairs, in which case I have no objections.”

“Yeah, definitely not,” he said, gingerly flexing his legs before standing.  “You’re on your own there.”

“Same time next week?” Clarke asked.

“I do live here, you know.”

“Funny, I wouldn’t know it by how often I see you.”

Bellamy shook his head with a smile, and mussed up her hair.  “Fine. Same time next week, roomie.”

 

* * *

 

It became a routine with them.  Saturday nights when she wasn’t working they split a six pack or a bottle of wine and hung out.  Sometimes they watched GBBO and bickered over their favorite contestants, and sometimes they picked a movie and mocked it together.  Their friends were always complaining about their sense of humor but Clarke personally thought they were hilarious, and it quickly became her favorite night of the week.  Sometimes she found herself studying him, watching his reactions carefully, and measuring them against her memories. There was something different about him now, a lightness that hadn’t been there when he lived in Arkadia before.  Maybe it was the time away, or maybe it was just simply having grown up some, but he seemed calmer somehow; more grounded.

She was different too, of course, and they hadn’t seen each other for more than a few days at a time scattered over six years.  It made sense that he’d change, but she wondered about the root cause of it and wished she knew. But then Bellamy would throw his head back and laugh at one of her jokes and she’d forget all about comparing him to who he used to be.

Bellamy started working less in his office, too.  When he had grading he’d move to the couch and spread out the papers, alternately moaning about the quality and proudly reading off sentences that didn’t mean much to Clarke, but she liked the way his eyes lit up with pride anyway.  Sometimes she would sit in the armchair by the window and sketch, and once she caught Bellamy looking at her with a soft, contemplative gaze that made her heart curl.

She liked having a roommate, she decided.

 

* * *

 

Clarke shifted smoothly from downward dog to a low plank, and then rose up into upward facing dog.  She was halfway through her practice, having worked up a good sweat, when she heard a noise at the door.

Bellamy leaned against the doorjamb, munching on an apple.  “Can I help you?” she asked. A bead of sweat rolled down her neck to her collarbone and slipped into the valley between her breasts.  She didn’t bother with a shirt when doing yoga, preferring leggings and a sports bra, and she hadn’t realized Bellamy was home.

He tilted his head to the side.  “Nope, I’m good,” he smirked.

Clarke rolled her eyes and pushed back into downward dog, then raised her left leg for a down dog splits.  “Enjoying the view?” 

Bellamy took a noisy bite.  “Something like that.”

“Pervert,” Clarke snorted.

“Did you want me to leave?”

Clarke slid into a low lunge and her heartbeat picked up a few paces.  “It’s a free country. And you do live here.”

Bellamy grinned and sent her a tiny wink.  She chuckled and he pushed off the door frame to wander down towards his bedroom, and it took more deep breathing than usual to bring her heart rate back down.

That moment changed things.  They started flirting more; nothing line crossing, and nothing even terribly overt, but there was a charge to their interactions after that.  It was in the brush of his hand across her back if they were in the kitchen together, and in the way she teased him about his glasses while he graded on the couch.

Being attracted to Bellamy wasn’t exactly new for her, but there was something different about it now.  When the first met it was mostly fury and annoyance fueling their chemistry, and then after it was the simple fact that he was hot and she was a warm-blooded human capable of recognizing that.  But now there was a possibility that lingered in the air and found her reaching for her vibrator with more frequency than usual.

Bellamy had been living with her for two months when their weekly roommate night was sponsored by a bottle of scotch none of their other friends would touch.  It hit her faster than their nights with beer and soon her head was lolling back on the couch while she laughed at his annoyance with endless faculty meetings. 

“There is no goddamn reason we need to debate including a required accessibility services disclaimer on the syllabus for  _ two hours. _  It’s required, and it’s  _ the right thing to do _ _._  But no, every goddamn person has to hear themselves talk for twenty minutes and bring up fifteen hypotheticals that don’t even apply, and— jesus, what? Why are you laughing so hard?” he asked.

Clarke shook her head, not quite able to get her laughter under control.  “You’re just... _ so _ angry about this,” she managed.

“Yeah well, you’ve never had to sit through an academic meeting.  Trust me, they’re  torture.”

“I believe you, drama queen.”

“Drama queen? Me?” he said, his voice pitching higher with offense.

“Did you or did you not stand on a chair to argue a point during bar trivia?  Because I seem to remember that happening.”

Bellamy’s eyes widened.  “Fuck, I forgot about that,” he said, and this time they both doubled over with laughter.

Clarke wiped at a tear streaming down her face and poked at his thigh with her toe.  “Hey, awkward question.”

“Then be prepared for an awkward answer.”

“Oh my god, first of all, I hate you.  But second of all, uh...fuck, there’s no way I can ask this without sounding conceited.”

“This is gonna be good,” Bellamy grinned.

Clarke mock-glared at him and chewed her lower lip.  “Back when we first met, did you...have a thing for me?”

“I’m sorry, did you forget that I called you a spoiled brat in front of all of our friends the second time we hung out? Because that’s definitely a thing that happened, princess,” Bellamy teased.

“I didn’t mean  _ right away, _ _”_ she said with an eye roll.  “I meant...later.” She’d been thinking a lot about that year, trying to figure out just what had changed about their friendship.  And she hadn’t been completely oblivious back then, just— not quite sure if he did have feelings for her, or if she was imagining them.  And then she’d met Lexa, and it seemed...well, irrelevant felt harsh and dismissive, but whether or not Bellamy had a crush on her just wasn’t at the forefront of her thoughts.  Crushes on friends happened and people chose not to act on them for all sorts of reasons, and Bellamy had seemed to be doing just fine, so she put it out of her mind.

“I did, yeah,” he said, swirling his scotch.

“Thought so,” Clarke preened, and this time Bellamy was the one to roll his eyes.

“Did.  Past tense, princess.”

“Whatever, you were checking me out when I did yoga the other day.”

“Like you don’t have to pick your jaw up off the floor whenever I leave the shower,” he retorted.

He had her there— an unexpected side effect of living with Bellamy was being keenly aware of just how ripped he was.  And he was very, very ripped.

“So what I’m getting is that we’re both crazy hot,” Clarke laughed.  “Maybe we should fuck.”

“Maybe we should,” he snorted, and then tilted his head to the side, thinking.  Bellamy lowered his hand to her bare ankle, eyes suddenly dark. He traced the edge of her cuffed jeans with one finger, light and delicate.  Sparks flared in her belly and his fingers slid up towards her calf, her skin burning in their wake.

“You’re not...seeing anyone, are you?” she asked, heart racing.

Bellamy licked his lips and shook his head.  “You?”

Clarke and Niylah had never been exclusive, and anyway, that had sort of fallen off her radar a few months ago.  “Not in awhile, no.” She curled her legs under her and rose up on her knees, slinging one over his hips.

Bellamy’s hands found her waist and she settled into his lap, her center directly above his groin.  “Should we have, uh...terms and conditions? Like, rules?” he asked.

Clarke rolled her hips forward and felt him harden underneath her.  “Yeah, probably,” she said, her voice low. “Um, maybe not too often?”

“Define too often,” he asked, eyes darting to the neckline of her flannel shirt.  It didn’t quite fit and she’d left it open just one button too far. It left her breasts on display, something she was now acutely aware of as his gaze skated across her skin.

“Just like, only once a month, or something.  So it doesn’t become a habit.” She had never felt the need to draw that line with Niylah, but for some reason, this felt more dangerous.  Probably because they lived together— the temptation might be too much, and they needed to be careful.

“Once a month, sure.”

“And no sleeping over.  Our beds are just down the hall, so no excuses that we’re just feeling lazy.”  Clarke curved her hand along his jaw, feeling the stubble against her palm. “What about you? Any rules?”

Something unreadable flashed in his eyes.  “Yeah, uh, I think we should have an escape clause.  One of us wants out, we’re out, no hard feelings.”

“Easy in, easy out,” she agreed, and ran her fingers through his hair.  His eyes fluttered shut at her touch and she scratched her nails against his scalp.  His hair was longer than it had been six years ago, and he wore it straighter now. It made him look older, along with that dark shadow along his jaw.  She liked it, she decided. “So we’re doing this?” she asked, and his eyes slowly opened.

“I’m in if you are,” he said, and she shivered at how low and rough his voice was now.

“You’re sure?” she repeated, tightening her fingers in his hair so his head pulled back towards the couch.

His eyes flashed again and he gripped her hips hard, pushing his now-hard cock against her through his jeans.  “What do you think?” he challenged, and she sealed their lips together.

Clarke had always liked the smoky burn of scotch, but that was before she tasted it on Bellamy’s tongue.  Now she chased it with everything she had, their lips and teeth clashing messily. Bellamy seemed just as undone as she was, his hands roaming her body roughly.  He managed to undo a few more buttons on her shirt and buried his face between her breasts, licking and nipping as he went. She curved her back to urge him closer, her fingers still tugging on his hair, and he nudged aside a cup of her bra with his chin to draw her aching nipple into his mouth.  His mouth was hot and wet, the suction firm and perfect.

She jerked his head back so she could kiss him again and ground down on him, needing more friction.  Bellamy groaned into her mouth and peeled her shirt off her shoulders. He found the clasp of her bra and the material released, her breasts spilling into his hands.  She let his lips rove her skin, rolling her hips against his so his cock hit her clit just right, but she quickly realized he had every intention of taking his time. He curled his tongue around one nipple and then slowly kissed his way to the other, his thumb flicking across the tight, wet skin he left behind.  Clarke was making needy, mewling noises but Bellamy showed no signs of speeding up, just drew his mouth up to her collarbone to suck hard enough to leave a mark.

Exasperated and desperate she clawed at his t-shirt until he let her pull it off.  Clarke threw it over the back of the couch and took her chance to taste his skin, from the rough, rasping line of his jaw to the burning-hot smoothness of his chest.  Now it was his turn to gasp, and when her lips found his again he slipped his hands under her thighs. He scooted forward to get his weight over his legs and stood, hoisting her into the air.  “Your room or mine?” he asked.

“Do you have condoms?” she replied.  She thought she might have some, but it’d been awhile since she had a sexual partner with a dick and she wasn’t entirely sure she still had any; something that now felt like a massive, gaping oversight.

“Mine it is,” he declared and she wrapped her legs around his waist.  At the bottom of the stairwell he stopped and pinned her against the wall.  Her shoulder blades scraped against the drywall but she didn’t give a damn because Bellamy’s lips were slipping down the curve of her throat and it was maybe the best thing she’d ever felt. She could have stayed like that forever, but eventually she unwound her legs from his hips and stood. They raced up the stairs, laughing as they went, but when he caught her at his bedroom door his kiss left her breathless.

She stopped to peel down her leggings and Bellamy shucked his jeans, but then he scooped her back up in his arms and deposited her on top of his dresser.  He knelt down between her legs, lips curving into a smirk, and she lifted her hips up so he could slide her panties down her legs. The height of the dresser put her even with his face, his gaze heavy on her thatch of damp, golden curls. 

Clarke rested the arch of her foot on his shoulder and pushed him back, watching how his eyes were drawn to her.  He licked his lips, letting her keep him at a distance, and waited for her nod. He kissed the bone in her ankle and she eased her foot down his back.  He placed soft, delicate kisses up her calf and nuzzled at the thin skin on the inside of her knee. By the time her heel ran down the length of his spine his breath was hot on her center, his eyes burning into her, and she had to look away because it was almost too much.

And the moment his tongue gently traced her slit, it  _ was _ too much.  Clarke dropped her head back and let loose.  With every breathy moan Bellamy licked into her harder, smearing her across his lips and chin, thrashing her clit with his tongue.  Before she could even ask he pushed a finger inside of her, ratcheting her cries higher, and when he added a second she lost her voice entirely.  

Her thighs were trembling and she could barely hold herself up, the need coiling tighter and tighter inside of her.  She stopped seeing anything, stopped hearing, stopped being anything but a bundle of nerves being tortured by his mouth.  “Come on, I wanna feel you,” he growled and then sucked on her clit, curling his fingers inside of her until she shattered.

A wave slammed into her all at once, her vision blacking out while pleasure rolled through her.  Her walls clenched down on his fingers, tight and hard, and everything spiraled out from that point, rippling through her body over and over again until she couldn’t take it anymore, wrung out by her own climax.

When she came back to herself Bellamy was standing over her, nuzzling her cheek.  “Jesus fucking christ you’re good at that,” she laughed.

He smoothed his hands down her arms.  “So I’ve heard,” he chuckled, and she looped her arms around his neck.  Bellamy carried her to the bed and pulled a condom from his bedside table.  She went to help him roll it on but she was clumsy, muscles still addled from her orgasm.

Bellamy urged her on her side and slipped into bed behind her, his arm coming to pin her back against him.  He nudged her knees apart and pushed into her from behind. His cock breaching her entrance had her gasping for air again, his slow advance filling her perfectly. She draped her leg over his and let him rock into her, the position making each of his thrusts shallow but deliberate, his cock hitting her front walls with each roll of his hips.  His breath fanned her ear and Clarke craned her neck so she could meet him in a messy, awkward kiss. Even though she was still languid and wrecked from her first she felt another peak building, swirling through her like a current. Bellamy dropped his thumb to her clit and rubbed tight, hard circles on it until she was shaking again, helpless in his arms as she fell apart.

“Fuck,” he groaned as her walls tightened around his cock, and he snapped his hips into her harder and harder, the friction spurring her own orgasm on.  She felt his cock swell and release inside of her, and his groan sent shivers down her body. And they were both panting, tangled together in a mix of sweat and sex.

Bellamy pulled out to throw away the condom and she buried her face in his pillow, breathing in the scent of his sheets.  He walked back to the bed and she took in the strong lines of his legs, the curve of his ass, the faint outline of muscles cording as he moved.  With a sigh she pushed herself up and swung her legs over the side. “Leaving so soon?” Bellamy asked, slipping back into bed.

“Rules, remember?”  Clarke found her panties and shimmied them on.  Her bra was still downstairs, along with half their clothes, but she’d deal with that tomorrow.  “If I stay any longer, I’ll pass out.”

Bellamy put his hands behind his head and grinned proudly.  “Wore you out, didn’t I?”

Clarke slapped lightly at his chest and he caught her hand, pulling her back for a kiss.  “Don’t get cocky,” she warned.

“Too late, princess,” he smirked, and she rolled her eyes, shutting the door behind her as she left.


	2. Chapter 2

It happened again just two weeks later, when Bellamy paused at the door to the office on his way back from the shower.  He had a towel wrapped low around his hips as Clarke finished rolling up her yoga mat. There was a chance she deliberately decided to do yoga in nothing but her sports bra and a pair of leggings, while he was in the shower on purpose, but whatever, she lived there too.

He paused by the door, droplets of water dripping onto his shoulders.  They were impressive shoulders, she had to admit. At some point during his six years out of Arkadia he had apparently gotten very into weight lifting and the results were striking.

“Did you have a nice shower?” she asked, stepping unnecessarily close to him.

Bellamy didn’t move an inch.  “This is a nice color on you,” he said lowly.  He traced the strap of her bright blue sports bra, starting just above the swell of her breast and ending at the tip of her shoulder.  Goosebumps trailed in its wake and she licked her lips.

She lifted her chin and grazed his nose with hers.  Their breath mingled and neither of them spoke for the space of several heartbeats, her eyes locked on his lips.  “Technically, it’s next month,” she breathed, because officially, the calendar had flipped over yesterday. That was not really the spirit of their rule, of course, but Clarke had always been a fan of loopholes.  

“It is, isn’t it?” he whispered back, his hand curving delicately around the back of her neck.  But he didn’t close the space between them, not yet.

Clarke skimmed her hand across the taut expanse of his stomach to the bunched, damp terry cloth of his towel.  The fabric was tenting as he hardened and she rubbed her thighs together, wondering how long they could keep this up.  She palmed him through the towel and he closed his eyes. 

She found the edge and tugged.  The towel pooled at his feet and when she curled her hand around the base of his cock Bellamy finally broke.  He crushed her to him, hard, and she twisted her wrist and pulled her hand up the length of his cock. She palmed the tip and his tongue found hers, and with a nip to his lower lip she pulled away and dropped to her knees.

“Shit,” he swore, knotting his fingers in her hair.  Clarke looked up through her eyelashes, twisting her hand up and down, watching his eyes go glassy.  His cock was perfect, long and thick, and her mouth started to water. “You going to keep teasing me?” he rasped, and Clarke smirked.

“Maybe.”  She darted her tongue out to flick the underside of his tip, and he dropped his head back against the wall with a resounding  _ thump. _   She did it again, measuring his reaction, and then again, this time swirling her tongue all the way around and flicking across his slit.  Wrecked, incoherent curses dripped from his lips, and Clarke took pity on him and wrapped her mouth around him. He was heavy on her tongue and she tightened her fist around the base to shorten the distance.  But even still her eyes started to water when he hit her soft palate, and she drew back, leaving a trail of saliva in her wake. 

Bellamy moved his hand from her hair to her jaw and when she brought him into her mouth again he brushed his thumb where the tip bulged in her cheek.  She went slow, pulling him deeper and opening her throat. She felt a rush of triumph when he pounded his fist against the wall. She cupped his balls in her hand and tugged, her tongue once more curling around the tip, and suddenly Bellamy was pulling on her hair, urging her to her feet.

“Not yet,” he mumbled as he kissed her, his cock trapped between them.  “I want to come inside of you and I won’t if you keep that up.”

Part of Clarke wanted to ignore him and drop to her knees anyway, wanted feel him come down her throat, but the bolt of need that went through her at his words had her nodding.  Her bedroom was closer this time— and she’d made sure to buy condoms on her first grocery trip after their arrangement— so they stumbled across the hall together. Clarke wrestled with her sports bra, stuck as it was to her skin with sweat, and peeled down her leggings and underwear.

She went to climb onto the bed and Bellamy stepped behind her as she rose onto her knees.  “Face me,” he ordered, and she obediently turned around. Their faces were nearly level, hers just a few inches higher, and he kissed her thoroughly.  It went on so long she started to melt, her need and desire pooling between her thighs as her muscles went soft. Bellamy’s hand drifted to her breast, cupping its heavy weight and then palming it roughly.  She sighed into his mouth and his hand moved lower. It ghosted across the curve of her stomach and stopped, cupping her mound. She was dripping, aching for him, and still he just kissed her, his hand locked in place.

Clarke whined and rocked her hips forward, desperate for friction, and she felt him grin against her lips.  Slowly he parted her folds and ran one long finger the length of her slit. He drew the wetness up, to her clit, and pressed down hard enough for her to moan.

She fell forward and buried her face in his neck as his fingers started moving, first with rough circles on her clit and then finally— finally— inside of her.  His fingers stretched and filled her and she keened against his skin, and when his thumb started circling her clit again she almost sobbed in relief. He sped up, thrusting his fingers into her faster and faster as his thumb rubbed her clit, and her peak hit her with such abrupt, sudden force it knocked all the air from her lungs.

She was still coming when he arranged her on all fours and rolled on the condom, and the last twitches of her climax drew his cock deep inside of her.  Bellamy groaned at the sensation and twisted his hand into her hair, giving it a sharp tug whenever he hit that spot deep inside of her that made her see white.  He fucked her hard, her elbows locked to keep her in place, her hips rocking desperately back. Every time he pulled back she whined, and every time he thrust into her she gasped.

Her second peak came so fast she wasn’t sure if it was the same one or a second, ripping through her and bowing her back with its intensity.  Bellamy came then too, with a groan that drew one last pulse of wetness from her core.

Breathless and exhausted, she crumpled to the mattress.  Bellamy flopped down on his back beside her, fumbling for a kleenex to wrap around the condom.  With her last remaining energy she rearranged herself drape half across his chest, their legs tangled together.  His hand came down to stroke the back of her head. “Is this...against the rules?” he asked when they had both caught their breath.  “I know we said no sleeping in the same bed, but is cuddling allowed?”

Clarke nuzzled against his chest.  “We’re already doing it so I’d say yes, it is.”  A thought crawled sluggishly through her brain and she raised her chin.  “Unless you think we shouldn't.”

“Princess, I don’t give a fuck about anything right now,” he chuckled, and she smiled.  She skimmed her hand up and down his torso, drawing idle, shapeless shapes on his skin. The pull of gravity grew heavier and heavier, and she could have stayed there forever if Bellamy hadn’t cleared his throat.  “I’m going to have to take another shower,” he observed.

She fought to open her eyes.  “I probably should shower too,” she said, and tilted her head towards the bathroom that branched off from her bedroom.  “We should probably save some water, you know, shower together."

Bellamy grinned and caught her face for a kiss.  “I like the way you think.”

 

* * *

 

It was almost unsettling how little things changed with their friendship in between the moments when they’d fall into bed— he was still the person she most wanted to talk to at the end of the day, he just knew what she looked like naked now.  They still flirted, too, but now there was a charge behind it as they both watched the days tick by.

She was the one who proposed altering their rules as they laid on the living room floor, their clothes scattered around them haphazardly.  “Once a month was really just like, a guideline,” she pointed out, propping herself up on her elbow to look down at him. They had made it exactly four weeks this time, but it almost killed her.  “The point was just that we don’t do this all the time.”

“So are we striking that rule?” he asked.  There were thin red lines scoring his chest and back from her nails and she dipped down to kiss one just above his heart.

“Maybe just changing it slightly.  Definitely not more than once a week.”

“Not more than once a week,” he agreed.  “Calendar week, or not more than once every seven days?  Because that has seemed to be a problem for us.”

Clarke bit her lower lip in thought and Bellamy reached up free it, his thumb sweeping across her lips.  “I would say every seven days. To be safe.” Safe from  _ what _ she wasn’t sure, but an instinct told her to tread carefully.

“I’m okay with that,” he said, and tugged her back down for a kiss.  “But I also move that we count multiple fucks on the same day as just once,” he added.  “Seems stupid to pretend it’s only going to happen once today.”

That had happened last time too, when he ate her out in her shower, her cries ricocheting off the tiles, but they were so gone with want then-- and so wrecked and exhausted after-- they hadn’t even considered whether or not it was in bounds.  Already she felt herself responding to his slow, gentle strokes up and down her sides. Clarke straddled him for better access to his mouth and a warning bell went off in her mind. But when she pulled back to voice her concerns the words wouldn’t come.  She rolled her hips against his already swelling cock and kissed him, doubts banished from her mind.

Whatever it was, they'd deal with it later. 

 

* * *

Clarke dropped into her seat and caught the server’s eye with a nod.  “Now we can get it straight from the source,” Octavia declared, and Clarke furrowed her brow, studying the wine menu and half-listening.

“I’ll take the cab sav,” she informed the server, and then looked at her friends.  “What was that?”

Raven nodded towards Octavia.  “Bellamy’s been all happy lately. It’s weird.”

“It’s weird that he’s happy?” Clarke repeated.

“I mean, a little, yeah,” Octavia shrugged. “Especially since he’s so swamped with work.”

“Is he getting some?” Raven asked, and Octavia winced.  “Sorry, but it’s the logical conclusion.”

“Not that I know of,” Clarke lied.  They hadn’t discussed it directly, but she figured Bellamy wouldn’t really want their friends knowing they were fuck buddies.  Come to think of it, she didn’t really want them to know that they spent nearly every saturday fucking their brains out, either.  “Maybe he’s just happy to be back.”

Octavia pursed her lips.  “Maybe. I just never thought he would be, you know?”

“You never thought he’d be happy here?” Clarke pressed.

“Yeah, well, not after—” she broke off, looking suddenly guilty.

“Not after?” Clarke prompted.  She didn’t like the looks Raven and Octavia were exchanging, and she hated feeling like there was something about Bellamy she didn’t know.

“It was ages ago,” Raven said, eyes locked onto Octavia.  “I think it’s fine.”

“If you guys are talking about the crush he had on me, I know about that,” she interrupted.

Both their eyebrows hit their hairlines.  “He told you?” Octavia asked, incredulous.

“It was just a crush,” Clarke shrugged.

“What he did to Gina wasn’t just because of a crush,” Raven retorted.

Clarke blinked.  “What about Gina?”  She vaguely remembered the woman Bellamy dated his first year in grad school, but they’d broken up not long after she and Lexa, and Clarke never got the chance to meet her.  

Raven and Octavia exchanged another look and Raven sighed.  “So he didn’t tell you, then.”

“Tell me what? You guys are freaking me out.”

“It has been years,” Octavia said to Raven.  “What’s the harm?”

“It’s your funeral,” Raven replied.

“Seriously guys, just tell me.”

“Remember when you broke up with Lexa?” Octavia asked.

“Kind of hard to forget, yeah,” Clarke deadpanned.  Lexa breaking up with her had been the culmination of a lot of stress— her father died, she graduated from med school, moved halfway across the country, and fell in and out of love in under two years.  When Lexa ended things and moved to San Diego, Clarke had collapsed under the weight of it all. She’d stopped going out with her friends, preferring to shuffle around the house in sweats, ignoring their texts and drinking just a little bit more than was healthy.

Bellamy had been the one to help snap her out of it.  He showed up one day— she hadn’t even known he was in town, but then again she hadn’t checked her messages in three days— and announced she was getting dressed and going for a walk with him.  They wandered aimlessly around town until Clarke broke down, and then they sat on a park bench with Clarke crying into his shirt while the sun slowly set.

He’d stayed for two days, sleeping on the couch and coaxing her into normal human activities.  The day before he left he even talked her into going to Grounders with everyone, and that had been the start of Clarke returning back to the world.  She’d found a decent therapist and got back on track, but she was always grateful to Bellamy for being there for her when things were at her darkest.

“Well, that visit wasn’t planned,” Octavia said with a surprising amount of anger.  “We were worried about you, obviously, and then all of a sudden he just decides to drive here and rescue you.”

“And Gina dumped him for that?”

“He dumped  _ Gina _ after that,” Raven clarified.  “Because he wasn’t over you.”

“Oh.”  That definitely wasn’t what she and Bellamy had discussed, and her stomach turned into a nest of snakes.  

Octavia clicked her tongue.  “Well, he got over you eventually.”

“He was just really shitty to Gina in the meantime,” Raven said.

“I— I didn’t know,” Clarke said quietly.  “But I assume that’s why you guys didn’t want him moving in with me?”

“It just seemed like playing with fire, is all,” Raven shrugged.  “But he seems to be doing fine.”

“Better than fine,” Octavia added.  “That’s why we were confused. He was a fucking wreck there for awhile, and— well, whatever, it was years ago and he seems okay and that’s what matters.”

Clarke was saved from further elaboration by the server materializing, and after they finished ordering Raven launched into a story about her current supervisor at work.  But Clarke picked at her meal and when she drove home, her stomach was still queasy.

Bellamy was sitting at the table with books strewn across it, working on a lecture. His place was almost fixed and he was moving in a couple of weeks, and she realized that meant her days of coming home and finding him like this were numbered.  Her heart gave another painful twinge.

“How was dinner?” he asked idly.

Clarke tossed her leftovers in the fridge and studied the back of his head, debating.  “Do you have a second?”

Bellamy pulled off his glasses to wipe them clean.  “Something wrong?” He only wore them when his eyes were getting tired, she knew, and she wondered how long he’d been bent over his laptop.  Probably way too long. 

“Why did you break up with Echo?”  she asked, pulling out a chair. She’d met Echo a handful times, but never for very long.  She knew they met doing research in Italy— Bellamy on the Roman Empire, Echo on wine varietals— and that they broke up last year, but that was about it.

“She didn’t want kids.  I did. It wasn’t a dealbreaker at first, but eventually it was getting serious and we had to make a decision.”

“And Gina?”

“What’s this about?”

“I just realized there’s a lot of stuff about your life that I don’t know.”

He looked at her carefully.  “I take it you heard. Raven or O?”

“I want to hear it from you.”

Bellamy sighed and licked his lips.  “I realized— well, a lot of things, after I came to visit you.  But one of them was that I wasn’t over you, and that wasn’t fair to Gina.  I’m still not entirely sure Raven has forgiven me for that one, quite frankly.  They bonded when Raven came to visit over spring break and— that’s not the point.  But yeah, I broke up with Gina because of my feelings for you.” He took his glasses off again, a nervous tick.  “Sorry, that’s not really something I ever planned on telling you. The breakup with Gina was entirely my fault, because I never should have tried to convince myself I was ready to date.”

“That sounds...serious,” she ventured.  “When we talked, I thought it was just a crush or something.”

He shrugged.  “It was what it was, but don’t blame yourself.  I had a lot of shit going on back then, and it took awhile to get it sorted out, is all.”

“Like what?” she pressed.

“Gina used to say I didn’t value myself enough, and she wasn’t wrong.  I had some fucked up ideas about what I was worth and what I deserved, and you were sort of caught up in all that.”  He saw her face and shook his head. “I don’t mean— it’s not anything you did, but I realized I had feelings for you around when you started seeing Lexa, and I think I just assumed that that’s what I deserved; to have feelings for someone who wouldn’t ever feel the same way about me.  I got comfortable feeling like that as a way to punish myself for shit that was out of my control.”

“I’m sorry I made you feel that way,” Clarke said, doing her best to keep her face neutral, but her heart was breaking.

“I got over it,” he said with an attempt at humor that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Clarke nodded.  “How long did it take?” she asked, hating how narcissistic that sounded.

Bellamy frowned at his glasses, but she knew he was avoiding eye contact.  “I think it took until Italy, actually. There’s a reason I stopped answering your emails for awhile.  I needed some space; get my head on straight.”

Clarke sucked in a breath, because Bellamy hadn’t left for Italy until nearly a year after he broke up with Gina.  “I thought that was because of the time difference,” she said dully. She was feeling off-kilter, dizzy, like the ground was shifting beneath her.  Every time she found her footing, it gave way again.

He shrugged.  “Some of it was.  Some of it was that I needed space, and I didn’t know how to tell you that.  I’m sorry.”

“God, Bellamy, I didn’t—”

“You didn’t know, I know.”

“Did Echo know? Is that why she didn’t like me?”  She’d had always been a little icy to Clarke, but if she’d met Bellamy while he was getting over her, it might explain some of the distance.

“Echo doesn’t like anyone until she’s known them at least twelve months,” he said deadpanned.  Her lips quirked up reluctantly, and Bellamy went on. “We can stop hooking up, if you want. If knowing this makes you uncomfortable, we can go back to just being friends.”  

Clarke shrugged, not wanting to make this a bigger deal than it needed to be, because she already felt like a self-centered monster.  “I think we’re fine,” she said and looked him straight in the eye, wanting to see his reaction.  “You’re over me, right?”

“Right,” he said seriously, and then flashed her a smile.  “Except when I’m under you, of course.”

“Don’t be gross,” Clarke laughed, and the tension around them shattered like glass. She was still disoriented, but she felt better; relieved, even.  It was years ago and Bellamy seemed to have processed everything just fine; even coming out stronger on the other side. “But yeah, we’re fine.”

But all night she tossed and turned, even though she was sure he  _ wasn’t _ lying to her.  She hadn’t seen a trace of deception in his eyes, just open honesty.  Bellamy was definitely, completely over her. 

And she didn’t want to think about why that bothered her.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Bellamy moving out took nearly two weeks.  He started slowly, with his precious books, and the first weekend he hired a moving company to handle his bed, dresser, and all the shit he’d left in storage.  He officially started sleeping at the new townhome after that, but even though he didn’t seem to have brought much with him to Clarke’s house, there always seemed to be more.  He was in and out constantly, digging up cords and surge protectors and an absolutely inexplicable amount of batteries.  Clarke found herself staring at the six remaining boxes in Bellamy’s office— once more her gym and her gym alone— four days later and decided to pack them into her BMW wagon and drive them over.  Bellamy had promised to be by tomorrow, since neither of them had to work on Friday, but she was bored and didn’t have anything else to do.

She had a key to his new place but the lights were blazing when she pulled up.  Bellamy opened the door with a puzzled look on his face and nodded to the box in her arms.  “I said I’d get that tomorrow,” he protested, letting her in.

“I know, but I wasn’t doing anything and you don’t have class tomorrow.”

“That eager to be rid of me?”

“You have no idea,” she deadpanned.  

Bellamy followed her to her car and grabbed three boxes, stacking them on top of each other.  “Is this all of it?” His forearms bulged with the weight and she darted her eyes away. Despite their earlier assertion that everything was fine, after Bellamy’s confession they somehow just hadn’t found their way back to bed together for the few weeks they lived together.  Clarke felt like she might be crossing a line, even if she believed his assertions that he was over her.

Because of course he was. The break up with Gina was nearly five years ago, and he’d been serious enough with Echo to talk marriage and kids.  And at no point during their arrangement had she felt like he was hiding anything from her. They were fuck buddies and roommates, and that was it.  And now they weren’t even roommates anymore.

“The very last,” she said.  “Once we empty my car out, we’re officially no longer roommates.”  The boxes were light so she took two, which meant one trip up the steps of his porch and into the foyer and they were finished.

But inside his living room was another story.  It look like a tornado had gone through, leaving half-empty boxes and packing peanuts and half assembled furniture scattered across the hardwood floors.  “Please don’t tell me you’ve been living like this for a week,” she said, setting down her boxes on a pile of other, still-full boxes.

“Of course not.  It used to be worse,” Bellamy grinned.

“Right, then I guess I’m staying to help you with this shit,” she announced.

“Don’t bother,” he said, but she brushed past him and opened the first box she found.

“Come on, what else am I going to do?” she said, pulling out a pile of DVDs and several video game controllers.

Bellamy grabbed her arm and spun her around.  His eyes had a familiar, dark look to them and her mouth went dry.  “Me,” he said, in a voice that went straight to her clit.

“You,” she echoed, dropping the dvds back into the box.  Bellamy walked her backwards to the wall, his arms caging her in.

“C’mon, for old time’s sake,” he said, lips coming to brush against her earlobe.

Clarke shivered and nosed at his jaw.  “I could be persuaded,” she said lightly, but her fingers were already crawling up his shirt, eager to feel his skin.

His mouth was familiar by now, as was the way his tongue would seek out hers in a slow, languid dance.  His hair curled softly around her fingers and he pinched her nipple through her shirt, grinning at the way she twitched in his arms.  She lifted her arms and let him pull her shirt off, his mouth immediately finding the swells of her breasts.

She returned the favor and skated her hands across his broad, bare back.  He popped the button on her jeans and knelt to pull them down her legs, nipping at each bit of skin he revealed.  There was an ease with which they moved, comfort in knowing each other’s wants. Bellamy pulled his own shirt off before nuzzling at her stomach, inhaling the scent of her arousal.  He stroked her through her panties, rubbing the damp patch back and forth with his fingers. “God, I love how you taste,” he muttered, almost more to himself, and Clarke had to tug him back to standing to kiss him before he started going down on her right here.  He loved giving oral just as much as she did, but the memory of the rugburns he’d given her over the past few months had her urging him towards the bedroom.

Bellamy obeyed, but only until they were at the bed.  Then he took over, pushing her down on the bed and practically ripping her panties off.  His mouth was on her in seconds, his tongue thrusting into her as she scrabbled for purchase on the bed.  She settled on his hair, pulling his face towards her desperately, and his tongue slid from her entrance to her clit and back again.  

Abruptly he pulled back and shook his head.  “No,” he growled. Clarke pushed herself up on her elbows to peer at him, confused.   “Not like this.” He jerked her upright and rolled to his back. She got his meaning and walked on her knees until she was positioned over him, knees on either side of her head.  She lowered herself down and this time his tongue was delicate, exploring her folds with light, careful strokes that were nowhere near enough. 

She lowered herself farther, keeping her eyes on him as he stared up at her, and he sucked her clit between his teeth so sharply she almost fell forward, the sensation rocketing through her like a lightning bolt.  He kept his hands curled around her thighs to hold her steady and guided her hips, letting her fuck down on his face. Every time his tongue licked around the tight ring of muscles at her core she lost a little more control.  

Clarke brought her hand to her mouth and licked her fingers, using them to rub her nipple.  Each time she thumbed it she felt a pulse in her clit, and Bellamy groaned into her at the sight.  The vibrations pushed her closer to the edge. His tongue lashed at her clit, his chin grinding into her folds, and she came with a short, sharp cry that bowed her back and locked her muscles into place.

Bellamy eased her through it, his tongue gentling her with each pulse of her clit and spasm of her walls, until she couldn’t take it any more and crawled away, still gasping for air.  Bellamy wiped his face on the back of his arm with a dark, wild look in his eyes.

He sat up and Clarke climbed back on top of him, coating his cock in her arousal.  With each roll of her hips it nudged her swollen clit, and when she couldn’t take it anymore she positioned him at her entrance and sank down.

After the last time they fucked they’d agreed to share their most recent STD panels and forgo condoms since she had an IUD, but that was just three days before her dinner with Raven and Octavia.  He’d never been inside her like this before, with nothing between them. His arms wrapped around her back and he watched her, pupils blown wide, as she adjusted to his size. With a shaky breath she lifted herself up and back down, reveling in the slide of his cock against her walls.

He caught her face in his hands and kissed her as she moved up and down, driving him deeper and deeper with each thrust.  Her nipples brushed his chest with every bounce, a light, gentle friction that nevertheless sent sparks through her veins.

Bellamy dropped his hands to her waist, fingers digging in deep enough to leave a mark, and pulled her forward each time she took him inside her.  That subtle shift was enough to have the tip of his cock rub that spot deep inside her core, and Clarke pinned her hand between them, her clit so ready it took almost nothing for her to fall apart.

Bellamy drove his hips up in a stuttering, desperate rhythm.  He swelled, harder than she’d ever felt him, and she sped up, needing to know what it felt like to have his come inside her.

When he came it sent a burst of pleasure skittering down her spine.  She gasped into his mouth and he sealed their lips together even as his come slipped out of her.  Clarke rearranged her legs to cross behind his back and Bellamy’s forehead dropped to her shoulder, fighting for air.  She patted clumsily at his sweaty hair and kissed the side of his face, marveling at how familiar and new something could feel all at once.

Bellamy had started to soften inside of her when she untangled their limbs and climbed off his lap.  He leaned back against his pillows and she reluctantly swung her legs over the side of the bed.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” he mumbled, cinching his arms around her waist.  He buried his face in the curve of her belly, planting gentle kisses as he went. She dangled her legs over the edge of his bed and searched for her clothes, remembering belatedly that her shirt and pants were still downstairs.  That was apparently a pattern with them.

Clarke ran her fingers through his hair fondly.  “My own bed, remember?”

“That rule was for when you lived down the hall,” he said.  “Now you live a whole ten minutes away. I propose an amendment.”

Clarke ignored the voice in her head telling her to stick to her original plan.  “So sleepovers are okay if we’re not roommates?”

“Wouldn’t want you falling asleep behind the wheel.  It’s a public safety risk,” he said. He urged her backwards and she followed, letting him curl around her, his chest tight against her back.

“So really, me staying is for the good of everyone else,” she said, lacing their fingers together and brushing her lips over his knuckles.

“Exactly.”  Bellamy nestled closer, as if that were even humanly possible, and he kissed the back of her head.

She made a soft noise of agreement and let his warmth wrap around her, lulling her to sleep.

* * *

 

The light was a dull, soft grey, when she open her eyes the next morning.  She snuggled deeper into Bellamy’s sheets. They smelled like him and a little of sex, but she liked it.  It felt comfortable, familiar. Bellamy was sleeping on his back, snoring slightly. Clarke smiled to herself and brushed the hair back off his forehead with her fingertip.

Bellamy’s eyes fluttered open and he smiled at her, so soft and easy she couldn’t resist kissing him.  “Morning,” she said brightly.

“Morning,” he agreed, tucked her hair behind her ear.  His gaze darted to her lips, but whatever he was going to say was delayed when her stomach gave a ferocious, gurgling growl.  Bellamy lifted his eyebrows and fought a smile. “I take it you’re hungry?”

Clarke ducked her head, hiding her face in his chest.  “Yes,” she groaned, laughing. “What do you have for breakfast?”

He threaded his fingers through her hair and kissed the crown of her head.  “Honestly, nothing. But there’s a diner around the corner I’ve been meaning to try.”  

“Then let’s go, because I’m starving,” she declared and pushed herself up.  Bellamy laughed at her haste but got dressed quickly as she scooped her underwear off the floor and set off to find the rest of her clothes.

Her bra was in the hallway and her jeans were in the living room where she left them, but her shirt was harder to find.  Bellamy found her rooting around the various boxes in her bra and jeans, cursing.  “Are you going to help me or just stand there?” she grumbled.

“Just stand here,” he smirked, leaning against the wall.  “But I think I have something you want.” Her soft purple t-shirt dangled from his finger and she stalked over to rip it away with a grumpy expression that cracked halfway through. Bellamy ruffled her hair fondly and she tugged it on, still attempting to glare it him.

But when Clarke stepped out his front door she was driven back in with a squeal.  Where yesterday had been warm-verging-on-hot, now a chilly wind cut straight to the bone.  “Gotta love spring, huh?” Bellamy observed. “Wait here,” he ordered, and jogged back upstairs.

When he returned he had his new Arkadia hoodie in his hands.  “Here, this should help,” he offered and tossed it at her.

It was a little too long and the sleeves came down to her palms, but Clarke liked it anyway.  It kept her warm on the two block walk to the diner, and over too many cups of coffee and greasy hash browns they got caught up.  It had only been a week without him living in her spare bedroom but it felt much longer. She already missed talking to him whenever she felt like it, missed wandering down the hall and hearing him tapping away at his laptop.

On the walk back to his place she fought the urge to lace their fingers together, but a few houses away from her car he threw his arm over her shoulder.  Clarke snuggled into his side and he kissed the top of her head. She kissed his cheek before she climbed into her car and as she drove away Bellamy stood on the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets, watching her.  The wind ruffled his hair but still he stood there, shrinking in the distance, until she couldn’t see him anymore.

She didn’t even realize she still had his sweatshirt until she was home.

* * *

 

“Hey there,” Clarke called, shouldering his door open.  She dropped the key back into her purse and draped his sweatshirt over the back of his couch.  She’d found herself wearing it a few times around the house for no real reason, but she hadn’t had a chance to bring it over until now.  

Bellamy materialized out of the kitchen, looking confused.  “You’re almost an hour early; you know that, right?”

“I know, I figured I could help.  Brought you back your sweatshirt,” she added.

“Thought you’d just straight up stolen it,” he teased.

“I considered it.”  Clarke picked up the bottle of wine on the counter and poured herself a glass.  “What do you have left to do?”

Bellamy looked around the kitchen.  “Honestly? Not much. I think it’s ready.”

Clarke scanned the dip warming on the stove and the crackers he’d already set out.  “When did we become grown ups?” she groused.

“Somewhere after twenty-seven, I think.”

She grinned and boosted herself up onto the counter.  “Everyone’s looking forward to seeing the place."  

“It’s good to be finally in it and settled,” he agreed.  Bellamy took a sip of wine and she watched his throat work as he swallowed.

Clarke hooked her finger into his belt loops and tugged him between her knees.  “You know, we’ve got some time before everyone else gets here,” she said, looking up at him from under her eyelashes.

But instead of that familiar dark smile Bellamy set down his wine and frowned.  “About that,” he said, his palms resting on either side of her. “I think— I think we should be done.  We’re not roommates anymore, and I think we should make a clean break, you know?”

Clarke felt like she’d been dashed with cold water.  “Oh, yeah, totally,” she agreed, because that was what they had agreed to— easy in, easy out.  

Bellamy stepped back.  “Are you okay?”

“Of course,” she said brightly, but it rang false to her ears.  “That was the deal, right?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t want you to feel—”

“I’m fine,” she said, and pushed herself off the counter.  “Really, it's no big deal.  It was just sex.  I just need to go to the bathroom,” she lied, and escaped to the tiny bathroom off the living room.

She clutched the sink and stared at herself, willing the flush of humiliation to pass.  Because that’s all it was— humiliation from a rejection, but it was a soft one. And Bellamy had a point; him moving out was a good a reason as any to end things.  It was always a temporary arrangement, just like him living with her.

And now it was done.

She ran cold water over her hands and pressed them to her heated cheeks, desperate to calm down.  The doorbell rang and she blinked back the unexpected tears.

Octavia didn’t seem surprised to see her, but she still shot Clarke a pointed look while unloading the beer into his fridge.  “What are you doing here so early?” she asked once Bellamy had disappeared to porch for another case.

“Same as you.  Helping,” Clarke said, hiding her face.

Octavia clucked her tongue but Bellamy reappeared and Clarke was spared any more questions.  Lincoln walked in with Jesse on his hip, whose dimples provided ample distraction for everyone, and after not too long the rest of the guests started arriving.

Clarke had assumed the pit in her stomach would go away once more people were there, but it only got worse.  Bellamy threw his arm over Raven’s shoulders the exact same way he had hers walking back from the diner, and a half hour later she watched him plant a kiss on the crown of Monty’s head in a way that was achingly familiar.

It was easy enough to avoid Bellamy, with his place packed with people, but when he casually rested his arm around Harper Clarke snapped.  She had to get away, and  _ now _ .  She ducked onto the porch, gasping for breath, and let the door swing shut behind her.

It was all hitting her at once.  She was  _ jealous _ .  Not of her friends, not really, but somehow, she’d thought she was  _ special _ .  She thought the way Bellamy acted when she spent the night had meant something, but it didn’t and she was stupid to think so.  He was like that with all of their friends, affectionate and casual and loving, because that’s who Bellamy was. There wasn’t anything different or unique about their friendship.

Except for one thing.

The meaning behind all of it hit her like a freight train.  She was in love with Bellamy, and it was too late. He’d loved her and moved on, and she missed her chance.

Clarke gripped the railing and tried to take a deep, cleansing breath, but it was like her lungs had ceased to function.  Every moment they’d spent together flipped past behind her eyelids, taunting her. It was so simple, so clear, so obvious.

And so utterly, utterly hopeless.

Maybe if she hadn’t tried to seduce him earlier she could hold onto hope that he felt the same way, but what was his rejection if not proof he didn’t?  He wanted a clean break from her, not to slide into a full on relationship.

She couldn’t be here anymore.  She needed to process this, and she needed to be away from Bellamy.  Because now just  _ looking _ at the endless rows of books on his bookshelves would hurt, because it meant he didn’t live with her anymore— it meant he wasn’t hers, and he never was.

Clarke pulled herself together with several shaky breaths and walked back in.  She found Raven and touched her elbow, pretending to put her phone back into her purse as she did so.  “Hey, got a call from the hospital.”

“You’re on call tonight?” Raven asked, brow furrowed.

“No, but they’re expecting something big and they want all hands on deck.  Can you tell Bellamy goodbye for me?”

“Yeah, but he just ran into the kitchen to get more artichoke dip, I’m sure he’ll be right back out if you wanted to say goodbye yourself.”

“I have to go right now, sorry,” Clarke said, and she made it out the door before she crumpled.

* * *

 

Two hours and three quarters of a bottle of wine later, her phone buzzed.

_ Bellamy Blake _

_ Raven said there was a major casualty incident or something?  _

 

Clarke wiped away her tears and opened her phone.

 

_ Clarke Griffin _

_ False alarm. There was a big accident and _

_ they thought they’d need more trauma docs, but I ended up getting _

_ sent home. _

_ Bellamy Blake _

_ That sucks.  Sorry I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye. _

 

_ Clarke Griffin _

_ Me too.  It was a nice party. _

_ Bellamy Blake _

_ And everything’s okay with us? That was an _

_ awkward conversation earlier _

 

_ Bellamy Blake _

_ I just don’t want to lose the only person who _

_ will watch antiques roadshow with me _

 

Clarke gave a watery chuckle.

 

_ Clarke Griffin _

_ We’re fine, I promise.  And I’m game whenever _

_ you want to yell about shitty, overpriced art people think is _

_ valuable just because their nana bought it. _

 

Bellamy sent back a winking emoji and Clarke tossed her phone down on the couch, burrowing deeper into her nest of blankets.

She’d get through this.  

She just needed time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was gonna be three chapters, but now it's four. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	4. Chapter 4

Avoiding Bellamy was both easier and harder than she thought it would be.  The group didn’t get together as often anymore, now that everyone had jobs and some had families and everyone generally liked to be in bed by eleven at night, so all it took was begging out of one dinner and Clarke didn’t have to see him for a month.

But it was hard to go from talking to someone every day to not at all, and she missed him.  They texted sometimes, usually initiated by Bellamy, about stupid little things that happened during their days.  And that, somehow, was almost worse. It reminded her of how much she liked just  _ being _ with Bellamy.  Their quiet moments together, talking about nothing and everything at once.  She was making absolutely no progress in getting over him, but it hadn’t been that long.  She just needed time.

Clarke had just finished a shift and climbed into her car when she got the text from Raven.

 

_ Raven Reyes _

_ Are you coming to the carnival this weekend? And _

_ more importantly, are you gonna bring your weirdly hot friend? _

 

_ Clarke Griffin _

_ His name is Roan _

_ Raven Reyes _

_ I know that but how else will I disguise  _

_ my uncomfortable attraction to him _

 

_ Raven Reyes _

_ Also you didn’t answer _

 

_ Raven Reyes _

_ And before you say no remember that you’ve _

_ been dodging us for a month _

_ Clarke Griffin _

_ I have not _

_ Raven Reyes _

_ Have too _

 

_ Raven Reyes _

_ We’re all meeting at the gates at 7 _

 

_ Clarke Griffin _

_ Define all _

_ Raven Reyes _

_ Octavia, Lincoln, Bellamy, Jasper, Maya, Murphy,  _

_ Harper, Monroe, Monty, and Miller _

 

_ Raven Reyes _

_ And assuming you don’t wuss out, you and _

_ Captain Uncomfortably Hot _

 

_ Clarke Griffin _

_ Again, his name is Roan _

 

_ Raven Reyes _

_ Again, don’t care _

 

_ Raven Reyes _

_ You coming? _

 

Clarke set down her glass of wine and contemplated her phone.  If she begged off, there would be questions— questions she really didn’t want to answer.  Besides, at some point, she needed to get over this. Bellamy had done the same for her when he was getting over her, after all.  She owed him the courtesy of sucking it up and dealing.

 

_ Clarke Griffin _

_ See you at 7 _

 

_ Clarke Griffin _

_ And yes, I’ll bring Roan _

  
  


Tinny music from the rides filled the air when Clarke found her friends.  Roan had beaten her there, and whatever he had going on with Raven— half sparring, half flirting— was already in full swing.  Clarke did her best to seem unaffected, even hugging Bellamy hello like everyone else, but she knew right away it hadn’t worked.  He frowned at her as they walked into the carnival, but she pretended she didn’t see and linked her arm with Harper.  she hadn't seen her in weeks either, Clarke reasoned, and they had plenty to catch up on.

“How’s Madi?” Harper asked.

“She’s good.  Trying to decide if she wants to try out for any sports next year, so if she does I’ll probably have to make times to go to her games, too.”

“What’s she thinking?”

“Volleyball for now, but it her plans seem to change every time I talk to her.”

“Well if she wants to do softball, let her know I’d always be up to help her out before tryouts,” Harper offered, and Clarke smiled gratefully.  

Bellamy materialized out of thin air with a stick of cotton candy clutched in his hand.  “Either of you want some??” he offered. Harper waved him off and he looked at Clarke pointedly.  “Come on, I know you love this garbage,” he teased, and she peeled off a piece reluctantly. They fell into step as their group wound their way through the stands, occasionally pausing to let kids dart past them.  “You’ve been busy lately,” he observed.

Clarke pinched off a another chunk of pink fluff and let it melt on her tongue.  Being this close to him was like a physical pain pressing down on her chest. “Just a lot going on.”

“Like what?”

“Stuff.”  Bellamy cut his eyes at her and she shrugged.  “I’ve been taking Madi out and working a lot, I guess.”

“And how is that different from when I lived with you?”

“Well, we don’t live together.  So of course we see each other less.”

“Clarke—”

“I don’t know what you’re getting at,” she grumbled.  Up ahead Miller threw his arm over Monty’s shoulders and she felt a pang of jealousy.

“What I’m getting at is you’ve been avoiding me.”

“No I haven’t.  This is just how it is now, okay?  We don’t all see each other all the time anymore.”

“I just feel like—”

“Everything’s fine, Bellamy, I’ve just been busy,” she said flatly, and hurried ahead to draw even with Raven.  She could feel Bellamy’s eyes on her back and she did her best to pretend nothing was wrong, even though she only half-listened to Raven and Roan’s snark-filled flirting as they walked.  Part of her wanted to run, but Bellamy wouldn’t stop until he had a satisfactory answer out of her. She would have to avoid him tonight and figure out a way to talk to him privately some time soon.  It would suck, admitting her feelings to him, but she probably owed him that much. And he would understand and leave her alone while she healed, so it would be for the best.

She just really didn’t want to do it yet.  She dreaded the understanding look she’d see in his eyes, and the conversation about how he  _ cared _ about her, just not like that, that would surely follow.  It was humiliating, and she now thoroughly understood why he just stopped responding to her emails all those years ago.  She needed time to lick her wounds, but getting that would require breaking her heart officially, instead of just theoretically.

Clarke managed to dodge him successfully until the group (sans Roan, who had an unusually acute fear of heights, and Raven who wanted to stay down and mock him) decided to ride the ferris wheel.  She considered begging out, but Raven clearly wanted a little bit of solo time with Roan. She tried to position herself near Murphy but Bellamy stepped up and neatly boxed him out when it was her turn to take a seat.  A spike of panic flooded through her. There was no way out without making a scene, and that was the exact opposite of the plan tonight. Tonight she just had to survive her feelings, and then she’d go see him tomorrow and explain.

The metal bar swung down across their laps and Bellamy raised his eyebrows.  “What’s going on with you?”

Clarke shifted, uncomfortably aware of how close they were.  “I told you. I’ve just been busy.”

“Don’t lie to me, Clarke,” he said in a flat, stern voice she’d never heard before.  “Please not— not with me.”

“I have been,” she said, but as the seat lifted off the ground she bit her lower lip.  “But I’ve also been...dealing with shit.”

Bellamy nodded, eyes fixed front of them. “Want to talk about it?”

The seat rocked to a stop for the next pair to be loaded in and Clarke looked down at her lap.  “Not sure it’s something you can help me with.”

“Try me,” he said with a hint of a smile.  “I might understand it better than you think.”

 

Her hastily imagined plan for getting through this until tomorrow evaporated.  It wouldn’t be any easier then, she reasoned. Might as well own up now. She took a deep breath.  “I screwed up, is all. Didn’t follow our rules.” 

“Which one?”

“I let my feelings get involved.”

The seat jerked and they moved again, the ground falling away.  “I don’t seem to remember that being one of them, actually.”

“It was implied, what with the whole ‘easy in, easy out’ clause,” she countered. 

Bellamy nodded, still not looking at her.  “I’m sorry if I hurt you. At the housewarming party, I mean.” 

“You were just following the rules,” she said as lightly as she could. “It’ll— it’ll pass.  I think I just need some time and space like you did, you know?” The spokes on the ferris wheel pulled them higher, the music fading.  Down below she watched Raven goading Roan at a shooting game, a teddy bear already tucked under her arm.

He swallowed hard.  “Do you...want it to pass?”

They’d reached the apex of the wheel now and Clarke blinked back her tears.  “Of course I do.”

“Clarke—”

“No, Bellamy, don’t.  Don’t try and make me feel better, okay?  This is just something I have to deal with.  You dealt with it, so— you know. Just give me time.”

“I—”

“No,” she said, cutting him off again.  “Please don’t do this. Our timing is just off, and that’s not something either of us can fix.  I’m sorry it happened this way, and I feel like a lot of it is my fault, but I don’t want to lose you as a friend.  And I know this is asking so much of you, after you asked absolutely nothing of me before, and just— I fucked up, okay?  Let me deal with that in peace.” While she rambled the wheel spun and Bellamy watched her with those dark, sympathetic eyes she now knew she loved.  

And could never have.

She wiped at her cheeks and they jolted to a stop.  She pushed the bar up and tried to dart out of the seat, but Bellamy grabbed her elbow.  “Are you going to let me talk now?” he asked.

“Ride’s over,” the bored kid operated it announced.  Bellamy pulled out his wallet and held out a $5 bill, pinning Clarke in place with his stare.

“Only take tickets,” the operator replied.

“Just let us go around again and I’ll go buy some later.”

“Gonna cost you more than that,” the kid informed him.

Bellamy sighed, looking annoyed, and pulled out a $20.  "Clarke, please," he said. The operator accepted it and Clarke sat back down, wanting nothing more than to escape but knowing she owed it to her friend to hear him out.

Bellamy ran a hand through his hair.  “I have a confession to make too. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I think part of why I started things with you was to prove something to myself.  See how close I could get to the fire without getting burned, you know? It was a test, and thinking back, that’s probably kind of shitty of me, but I thought I could handle it, being with you and not wanting more.  But that night at my place was— it was a lot. I wasn’t even thinking, because it felt so right, and then suddenly I realized that I’d fucked up. And I didn’t think you felt anything for me, so I figured we should end things.  Before I got in too deep.” Clarke sucked in a breath but let him keep talking, even though her heart was pounding. They were at the top of the wheel again, the whole fair spread out below them. “I was trying to spare us both pain, but I guess that didn’t work, huh?”  He tossed her a gentle smile that she returned.

“So you—”

“My turn to talk, remember?” he teased, and turned to face her more fully.  The seat swung in time with her heart. “I wanted us to be over because I didn’t think you felt the same, but it would appear you do.”  He flashed her a smile that set her skin alight, and then his hand was on her jaw and they were kissing while the wheel turned. 

“Wow, we really fucked that up, didn’t we?” she laughed against his lips.

“We can determine just how much later, princess,” he admonished, capturing her lower lip between his teeth.  Distant cheers— and a whoop that was unmistakably Monty’s— rose to meet them. She tangled her fingers in his hair and swept her tongue against his, wondering if it really could be this simple.

Her heart soared and she struggled against the crossbar to get closer to him, and when they reached the end this time she was the one shoving a $20 at the operator so they could keep going, just the two of them, high above the world.

 

* * *

 

The wind howled outside and sleet pattered on the roof.  Clarke nestled deeper under the blanket, tucking her nose into the crook of Bellamy’s neck.  He stirred and rolled over, pulling her against his chest. “Sounds shitty outside,” he mumbled, his voice still rough with sleep.

“Mmmm,” she agreed and placed a delicate kiss above his heart.  A gust of wind sent another wave of ice against the window. “Good thing we’re not going anywhere.”

She felt him kiss the top of her head and smile.  “I’ve been thinking,” he said after a moment of silence.  “My lease is up in a few months.”

“And?”

He huffed out a tiny laugh.  “I’m here most of the time anyway.  Seems silly to pay for both places.”

“You trying to mooch off me some more?”

“Mooch? I paid rent,” he said, offended.

Clarke smiled against his skin.  “Are you asking to move in with me, Bellamy?”

He pulled back far enough to look her in the eye, his hand coming down to cup her jaw.  “What do you say; roommates again?”

Clarke tilted her chin up to kiss him.  “I think we’ll be a lot more than just roommates.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title is courtesy of Hozier, as usual.


End file.
